


Why Do You Even Have That Costume?

by AnabielVriskaMars



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Marichat, sin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27508012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnabielVriskaMars/pseuds/AnabielVriskaMars
Summary: Classic story: a girl finds a stray cat on her way home.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 11
Kudos: 237





	1. Why?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even try to find an excuse for these anymore.

Chat was well aware that he wasn’t supposed to use his powers for his own benefit, but he supposed just this once couldn’t hurt. It was raining too hard, and he had given up Gorila privileges when he’d had that huge fight with his father two months ago.

But he didn’t want to think about that.

Well, actually, he did. He just didn’t know who to talk about it with.

Rain fell in sheets over him, drenching him through the bone as he made his way through the rooftops of the southernmost part of Paris. It was the middle of autumn, and the rain was _cold_. He needed to get to his apartment to dry off.

Chat slowed down and stopped running.

Yeah. His apartment.

It was nothing more than an empty floor with barely a bed that he’d managed to rent for the time being. He didn’t know how things with his father would evolve, so Adrien had to be very careful with his savings—thank _God_ he had those. Anyway, the apartment was small and empty, although not as chokingly empty as the house he had left behind.

He sighed and sat on the ledge of a rooftop, looking down. There was no one on the street, save a single black umbrella, walking against the inclement weather in this stormy night. Who would be foolish enough to go out like this?

As if the rain had heard his question, the person’s umbrella blew away with a yelp, and a very familiar head of black hair was revealed. Chat blinked.

“Marinette…?” he whispered. He tried to lean forward, to get a better look, but the movement was erratic and the ledge was slippery and Chat was unlucky.

In short, he fell straight to the pile of trash.

Marinette yelped again, and jumped back at the sound. After a moment, she took a cautious step forward to look at whatever had fallen.

A blond head of hair popped up from the bags.

“Hey, Princess,” he grinned sheepishly.

You probably could’ve heard Marinette’s startled scream all the way to the Eiffel Tower.

Chat climbed out of the stack of trash and stood in frnt of her, now not only drenched, but also smelly. He grimaced. This wasn’t a good night for him.

Marinette, hand on her chest and out of breath, looked at Chat, alarmed.

“What were you doing there?” she demanded. Chat took a step closer—

\--and fell.

A shock of pain ran up his leg, and he couldn’t help doubling over and wincing.

“Chat?” Marinette asked, disregarding the smell and closing the distance between them. “Did you get hurt?”

Chat smiled halfheartedly. “This is hardly how I’d like you to see me, but yeah, I think I hurt my ankle.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and set her umbrella aside, effectively allowing rain to fall on her like a waterfall.

“Wait, you’re getting wet.”

Marinette shrugged. “It’s just a bit of water. Besides, I can’t help you if I’m carrying that thing.”

“Help me…?” He blinked several times.

Marinette nodded at a small entrance to a building Chat hadn’t noticed. “That’s my building. I’m taking you there to look at your ankle and to get out of the rain.”

“But—”

“No butts, chaton,” she smiled kindly, and it seemed to brighten the night. Had her smile always done that?

She leaned over and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, helping him up. He was a good head comically taller than her, but her help was precious nonetheless. Slowly and awkwardly, they bobbled their way to Marinette’s apartment on the first floor, thankfully avoiding nosy neighbors.

Marinette unlocked the door and allowed Chat in, who stood at the entrance awkwardly, balancing himself on one leg. Marinette disappeared into a room and quickly emerged with two towels, handing one to Chat and using the other one on her hair. He took the towel dumbly and stared at it, the vague smell of washing soap wafting from it. He looked at it for a moment. Marinette raised an eyebrow.

“You’re going to catch a cold, you know?” She said.

“But I fell in the trash…” Chat replied dumbly.

“Oh, right!” Marinette walked towards the same door she had just emerged. “Come, you can take a shower here.”

“I… uh,” he had no words. Chat Noir had no words.

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Listen, you need the hot water and you stink. Might as well get out of that suit, too.”

“I have nothing to wear,” came the weak reply. Marinette blushed.

“Okay, I have a solution for that, but you need to promise not to ask questions.”

Chat nodded. Maybe the scent of cookies of her apartment was getting to his brain and scrambling his thoughts.

Marinette pulled from what could only be her sewing table a black suit.

Specifically, a Chat Noir suit.

“Wh—”

“We said no questions!” Marinette flushed. Chat just nodded. He figured, at this point, he might as well go with it. Without another word, he went where Marinette indicated—to the bathroom.

“Take your time,” she said kindly, and only now did he realize something important.

“Wait—you’re soaked too!”

Marinette pushed him to the bathroom and closed the door. “I’ll change and dry my hair, I’ll be _fine_.”

Alone in the bathroom, Chat looked at himself in the mirror and sighed.

“ _Detransformation,”_ he whispered, and Plagg came zipping about, laughing.

“I can’t believe you fell into a trashcan!” Plagg chortled. “And in front of the baker girl, too!”

“Shh! She’s going to hear you!” Adrien hissed. “Listen, how about I shower and we transform again? That way we won’t be in her way.”

“Are you kidding?” Asked Plagg. “Kid, I’m _starving_. I’m not going anywhere without a good slice of camembert.”

“We didn’t even use Cataclysm!”

Plagg shrugged, and Adrien was _very sure_ that he was just being a little shit.

So Adrien showered and obediently put the Chat suit on, effectively becoming Chat once again, he supposed.

Was he still Chat without his powers?

He pressed the domino mask against his face, a silicon-like material keeping it adjusted.

The suit was perfect. Everything was correct, down to the last stitch.

Chat sighed, once more.

* * *

“Do you think something happened?” Marinette whispered. Tikki pondered for a second.

“We haven’t heard anything… Could we have missed an Akuma?” Marinette looked at the closed door for a moment.

“No. Chat wouldn’t have left an Akuma on the loose. Maybe he was just… lonely,” she mused.

“Plagg should’ve told him not to use his powers for his benefit,” Tikki gently chided. Marinette felt the need to give Chat an inch of leeway—he didn’t seem like himself tonight. “Mari, I know how you feel about him but—"

The door opened, and Tikki zipped back into Marinette’s closet, hiding. Marinette turned to look at Chat emerge from the bathroom, looking abashed. His hair was wet and wild, as if he had toweled it, and he looked more boyish than she had ever remembered him.

“Took you a while,” she said with a small smile. Chat scratched the back of his head.

“I’m sorry, the warm water was nice.”

She laughed lightly, throwing the towel on her head over to a chair. Her hair was dry enough, and she had already changed into her pajamas—not her favorite, cause _those_ were a mess that Chat didn’t need to see, but a very nice pair indeed.

Chat looked through the window next to Marinette’s bed. The night was still pouring down. Marinette followed his gaze.

“You don’t have to go until the rain clears,” she said gently. “I have nowhere to be, and I don’t mind the company.”

The look Chat gave her—it was more than relief. It was bright, and hopeful, and it made her breath catch in her throat. How could an act of kindness as small as this cause such a reaction?

“Thank you, Princess,” Chat said, and his grin was in place, but the tone wasn’t. Marinette frowned.

“Okay, out with it.”

“Excuse me?” Chat looked confused.

“Sit on the sofa and tell me what’s wrong. I know that face,” she pointed straight at him and closed the distance, poking at his forehead (laughable, really, considering that he was a good head taller than she was). “My sofa is a world renowned therapy place. Just ask Kagami,” she grinned.

Chat’s shoulders relaxed a little, and he allowed himself an inch of a smile.

“Has anyone ever told you, you’re too nice?”

Marinette shrugged, falsely modest. “It’s been mentioned.”

Chat laughed lightly and sat on the small, two person sofa that occupied the single room in Marinette’s apartment. She climbed on the other side, legs gathered, to face him, and pressed her hand against her cheek, waiting.

“Well?”

Chat sighed. “I… don’t want to drop my problems on your lap,” his ears flattened against his hair, embarrassed. “The last thing I want is to be a bother.” He cast his eyes down.

Immediately, he felt Marinette’s gentle index under his chin, urging him upwards. When he met her gaze, it was filled with warmth.

“Friends don’t let friends suffer in silence.”

The word stirred something pleasant in Chat. Marinette brightened.

“I’m going to get you some hot chocolate and we’re venting. Sound good?”

But Chat didn’t have time to tell her that it sounded _marvelous_ , because she was already in the corner of the room, where he realized the kitchen was.

He took a moment to study Marinette’s apartment. It was small—very small. It had the living room with a single sofa in front of a small TV, a small bathroom where he had only barely fit, and a door that could only belong to her room, which had to be somewhat smaller than the living room, which was also half occupied with a sewing station pressed against the wall. Marinette came back in a minute, two warm cups in hands, and gathered her legs to sit next to Chat again.

“Come on, out with it.”

Chat sighed and looked at the hot chocolate. He opened his mouth to excuse himself.

“I just moved out about a month ago.”

Wait, what? That wasn’t what he wanted to say.

“I had a big fight with my father.”

Oh god, he had to stop.

“We sort of left it on bad terms.”

He looked up to Marinette, expecting disapproval or discomfort, but he only found her big, blue eyes look at him attentively, somehow telling him that she was listening.

“My father is not a bad man, but he can be overbearing.” Words spilled from his mouth, unbidden. “We had a falling out over what university I wanted to attend, and I just sort of stormed out. I expected him to send someone after me, but I think that, since I’m over age he can’t do that anymore,” he confessed. “And now I think he’s just avoiding me.” Chat rubbed his face, careful not to displace the mask, and sighed. “Sorry, I know I’m not too interesting.”

A strange warmth on his left hand—the one without the cup—and he realized that Marinette had placed hers on it.

Chat marveled at the way her body heat seemed to break through the spandex in the way the warmth of the cup didn’t—although perhaps that was just his imagination.

“Your father seemed hardheaded,” Marinette said, and Chat chuckled.

“You have no idea,” Chat said. “I mean, he programmed _every bit_ of my life, and now suddenly it looks like he did away with me in a second over a disagreement. I mean, he’s been acting strange, but I never thought he’d—” Chat groaned and hid his face behind his hands. “I don’t know. Maybe I screwed up.” He rested his elbows on his knees and kept his hand behind his palms.

Another sensation of creeping warmth in his shoulder. Marinette’s comprehending hand was gentle and familiar, and all at once he needed more of that gentleness and familiarity.

“Princess,” he heard himself ask, much to his dawning horror. “Can I ask you for something?”

Marinette’s face was open and gentle. “Anything.”

“Can I…” he flushed. “Can I get a hug?”

Marinette blinked, several times. He was embarrassed, about to retract his request, when she burst into giggles.

They were not, however, mocking. They were pure and delighted, and somehow they pushed the rocks away from his heart. Chat looked at Marinette laughing, and was struck by the blatant beauty of the scene.

“Okay,” her voice was laced with humor. “You can have a hug—but only if you return it.”

A smile twitched on his lips as he opened his arms and gathered Marinette in them. He was delighted at this new feeling.

Because there was something entirely new about this—he didn’t know if it was the costume, or the temperature, but he was definitely sure it was something about the girl—something he hadn’t quite experienced. He pulled back and looked at Marinette’s smiling face, and his stomach flopped as he realized he could count the constellation of freckles that dusted her cheeks.

“That’s better,” she said. “I like you much better when you’re smiling.”

The pain in his cheeks told him that yes, he was indeed smiling—but somehow that filled him with dread.

It took him a whole of two seconds to realize how aware he was of everything, even without his powers. He was aware of the place where her knee touched his thigh and the way her hand pet his hair softly. He felt her warm breath and heard the sound of the heater battle against the inclement weather, and he smelled the chocolate in her mouth.

He was also aware of the drumming of his heart in his ears, and the way his mouth seemed to have run dry.

Oh, no.

“Chat?” Marinette cocked her head to the side—just a small inclination—but it was as if the entire world had been tilted for him, and someone had shaken him down to rummage at the bottom drawer of his feelings and pulled out exactly the perfect shade of crush.

Oh, _crap._

“Why do you have this suit?” Chat asked, although his lips were rather numb with realization. Marinette flushed and looked away.

“We said no questions,” she murmured. But no, he didn’t want her looking away. He wanted those blue eyes glued on _him_ right now. And yes, maybe he was being spoiled, but the feeling was more powerful than him at the moment.

So he did like her, and gently nudged her chin with his index to face him, and their eyes met.

The coil that had been so taut until now snapped, and by force of physics, Chat had no option but to kiss Marinette. His arms surrounded and cradled her, palms open, touching her back and pulling her towards him. He felt teeth and sighs and tongues and heat, and was only barely strng enough to pull back.

“Sorry!” He breathed. “Oh, god, Marinette, I’m so—”

But her hands found his cheeks and her lips found his own and he was too confused to order his body to do anything but comply. She kissed the way she spoke—confident and strong. Their teeth clashed a few times, but they soon caught their rhythm. Before he knew what was happening, Marinette had climbed on his lap and her fingers were entangled with his hair. He barely had the presence of mind to speak.

“Princess?” he all but croaked. Marinette froze.

“Oh, god, I—I’m sorry—” she attempted to climb down from him, but his hands refused to allow it, and held her waist. Nervously, she looked back at him. God knows how he must’ve looked then, but _she_ looked amazing with plump lips and flushed skin and so, _so_ close. “Chat?”

His breath was heavy, but all he could manage was a goofy smile.

“I like you,” he said, tone as dumb as his face. Marinette’s eyes widened for a moment, and he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. “S-sorry,” he corrected immediately, sobering up. Surely, he’d made her uncomfor—

“I think,” Marinette said, looking at her fiddling fingers against his chest. He was pretty sure she was just pointedly _not_ looking at him. “I might like you too.”

Chat’s eyes widened and his mouth fell agape.

“You—”

Marinette blushed and covered her face with her hands. She wasn’t moving from his lap though, and he was very thankful for that. She peeked at him from behind her fingers.

“Say something,” she begged, voice muffled behind her palms. “Please?”

But there were no words in any language he could conjure to make justice to this situation. So all brains went out the window, and instinct took over.

He gently pulled her hands from her face, lacing their fingers together and lining their faces.

“Can I kiss you again?”

Marinette nodded, but it was an awkward movement, considering she pushed forward at the same time to kiss him as well.

Both of them now enthusiastically consenting, they allowed themselves the freedom of exploration. Marinette’s fingers brushed away Chat’s drying hair as she combed it gently, and his fingers pressed themselves into her waist and began tentatively exploring her back. He was suddenly _very_ glad that he wasn’t wearing his real suit, or he would’ve been in danger of clawing at her.

Chat’s hands descended down her back and to her thigh, gentle nudging the outer part of it, which now straddled him. His left hand ran up and down one leg appreciatively and the other one ventured to touch the frame of skin between her white shirt and fluffy pink pants. He felt Marinette shudder and yelp, and immediately retracted his hand.

“I’m sorry!”

But to his surprise, Marinette wasn’t horrified or angry. She was laughing.

“Sorry Chaton, that leather is really cold.” He watched her, entranced, as she took his right hand and divested it from the glove (why had he worn the entire costume, again?). A shy smile appeared on Marinette’s lips as she kissed his knuckles before pressing the back of his hand against her cheek.

“You’re still cold,” she said. Chat had no idea how to answer, so he just nodded. Marinette grinned coquettishly. “Shall I warm you up?”

“You can do with me whatever you like,” he replied absently and realized it was perfectly true, and had no objections against it.

Satisfied, Marinette pressed a kiss to the tip of his forefinger and placed his hand against her right breast. He could feel his own eyes widen as he felt the warmth beneath the cotton. Marinette giggled.

Oh god, he must’ve looked like such a freaking virgin right now.

But rational thought went out the window, anyway, as her hand pressed his encouragingly, and Chat allowed himself to do exactly as he wanted. He pounced at her lips once more, tossing them over to the side until Marinette fell under him against the sofa, laughing all the way. His right hand began delightedly playing with her breast while the left one finally climbed up her thigh and took a good hold of her backside.

“ _Fuck,_ you’re perfect,” he whispered reverentially as he kissed her. In fact, he whispered many things—not all of them made sense (most of them didn’t, anyway)—all of them devoted and praying at her like a deity.

In turn, one of her hands housed itself on his cheek, while the other scratched his scalp so deliciously, he might as well be purring. She spread her legs a bit, making more space for him, and he managed to make himself comfortable, entirely aware that he was pressing his hardness against her thigh, although she didn’t seem to mind. Her mouth migrated to his jaw and halted for a moment. Terror seized him.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, but Marinette planted a kiss on his lips before pushing him back for a moment. His hands immediately retracted from their new favorite places as he feared he might have overstepped.

“Nothing, just doing what needs to be done,” she said, working at something at his neck before he felt a familiar vibration against his chest.

She pulled the zipper of his suit about halfway down his chest before pulling his head towards her and sliding her free hand up his chest and shoulder.

“Much better,” she muttered as she captured his lips again. Sanity half restored by the brief period of lucidity, Chat held himself over her for a second. Marinette looked at him, confused.

No—not confused.

Her pupils were dilated and her brow was mildly furrowed but her lips were softly parted—she was scared. Of rejection?

How could she even--? Why would he--?

He shook his head to himself, banishing every thought, and dove at her with the new found goal to show her how much she was _not_ being rejected.

He kissed her hard, but not painfully. His hand kneaded at her breast, only on the edge of control, while the other gripped her waist. He rolled his hips once against her, and felt her gasp against his lips before she grinned.

“That’s,” he breathed, “what you do to me.”

She laced her legs around his waist and pulled him closer, angling her hips to be in closer contact. Before he could say anything else, she whispered on his ear.

“Take my shirt off.”

And well, Chat was nothing if not obedient.

He pulled back from her and clumsily pulled at her white cotton shirt, all the more difficult to shed due to her back being pressed against the sofa. With a growl, he pulled her up, entirely, and sat her back on his lap, discarding the shirt to the side and attacking her chest with his mouth.

He buried his face against her breastbone and planted a kiss there, devoted. She, in turn, surrounded him with her arms and tilted his head upward to meet his lips with her own. Her commands were all silent, but they were so easy to read—so intuitive—that it felt as if they’d done this a million times.

His hands flew to her breasts, but before they could, she got rid of his other glove and throwing it aside.

He pinched and pressed and kneaded and caressed—he did everything he could think about, and he felt her sigh encouragingly through her nose, because he couldn’t let her lips go long enough to speak. He was so lost in her, and her kiss, and her scent, and the taste of hot chocolate that he didn’t realize the suit was being pushed off his shoulders. Once he did, he slid his arms out of the sleeves until the suit only covered his lower half.

Marinette ran her hands up his arms appreciatively and smiled against his lips.

“Impressive, Chaton,” she whispered, but she was as out of breath as he was. He leaned up to kiss her, but she shifted her face away with a playful smile.

He chuckled, but it was too laced with lust to sound like his own voice. “I had to find a way to impress you, didn’t I, Princess?”

She chuckled. “So you became a knight just for me? Hold my fan while I swoon,” she joked.

Chat shook his head and spoke thoughtlessly. “For you, I would become anything,” be breathed, and finally caught her lips, dissolving back into a kiss.

He removed his hands from her breasts (and heard the growl in protest) and slid them down her back and her behind, hooking themselves on her upper thighs. Without a word, he stood, carrying her, and felt her laugh against his lips.

Her arms were clasped around his neck, holding her securely, and he felt her grin the second before she tightened her legs and pressed against him in the best of places.

His knees almost gave.

With an almost feral growl, he bit her lower lip and she mewled, and that snapped his feeble grasp in common sense.

Before getting to the bedroom door, he stopped by the sewing station, which blissfully only had some of her later designs and some papers strewn about. With a single, sweeping motion, he shoved them all to the ground and placed Marinette there, slightly rougher than he would’ve wanted to.

Marinette looked at him with a ticked grin. “Tired of our game, Chaton?”

Chat kissed her belly, her breastbone, her jaw and her lips before hooking his fingers into the waistband of her pink pajama pants.

“Never,” he breathed, and all but ripped the cloth from her legs. Marinette was as helpful as she could, kicking her pants and tossing her underwear to the side. As soon as those were out of the way, she spread her legs to allow Chat to lean over her and kiss her.

“ _Fuck,”_ he cursed. “You’re better than my dreams.” He bit at her neck enticingly.

“You, ah,” she moaned softly at a particularly pleasant bite, “you dream about me?”

He left a trail of gentle bites until he reached her ear and breathed hotly against it. “Since I was fourteen.” Even he could hear how on the edge of control his voice was. “I had to change far too many sheets to those dreams of you, Princess.”

Marinette whimpered at his words, and he felt her tighten a bit her legs. He felt himself grin.

“Ah, you like hearing that?” He asked wickedly. One of his hands moved up the outside of her thigh and then down the inside, trailing softly his fingertips against her skin. He felt her shudder. “What else do you like hearing, Princess?”

She tried to laugh it off, but her fingers were too close to where she needed him, and the laugh came out strained.

“I-I didn’t know you were like this, Chat.” She managed to say. Her hips twitched at his nearing hand, but he didn’t quite seem to reach her. She had to bite back a groan.

“It’s what the sight of you does to me,” he said, and the rawness of the truth mingled with the desperation of his tone. “I’ve been dreaming about this for years,” he confessed, although to her or to himself, he wasn’t sure. “About how your breasts would flush and how your voice would sound.” His hand finally reached the core of her heat, and he pressed against it. She whimpered and bucked her hips forward. “I’ve thought about the feeling of sweat running down your back and your teeth digging into my shoulder.” He teased at her entrance, and she let out a soft moan.

“Did you say something, Princess?” he asked, not unlike the little shit he was. He teased her a little longer.

“U-use your hand,” she begged. “Do something.”

He leaned over and kissed her scandalously in the mouth. “I’ll do you one better,” he whispered against her lips before pulling back and kneeling in front of the table.

“Ch— _oh my god_ ,” Marinette actually had to grab a hold of the table. Chat’s arms hooked themselves around her thighs, keeping them spread, which was perfectly fine, because she didn’t know what else she would’ve been doing with her legs, anyway.

Her breath shortened with every stroke and movement, and her moans soon became more and more audible as she cast away reservations of prying neighbors. It wasn’t until Chat felt her begin to tremble that he pulled back, pressing a kiss to each of her thighs before standing and looking down at Marinette.

She was a wreck.

Her hair was messy and her skin was flushed and her lips were parted and her eyes were wide and her breathing ragged and she was squirming and trying to find any friction she could release the tension that he had been steadily building inside of her. In a surprising feat of lucidity, Marinette pulled herself up to him and scrambled with the zipper at his waist, pulling it all the way down.

Chat wanted to say something clever—he wanted to be _suave_ —but there was nothing. Nothing in his brain and nothing in his mouth.

And now, nothing between them.

Marinette lined their lips together and locked her eyes on his.

“Chat, _please_ ,” she begged.

And that was that.

He didn’t slide in as much as he slammed against her, and she didn’t moan as much as she cried out.

His thrusts were firm and delicious, but she managed to hold herself up on her left elbow and pulled his head down for a delicious, open mouthed kiss—a kiss into which she moaned increasingly in time with his movements, and a kiss that eventually swallowed the cry that would’ve been perfectly shaped like his name.

He felt her shudder and the grip she had on his neck loosen a bit, but he wasn’t done yet—he didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to live in a moment in which he wasn’t inside her and she wasn’t happy and she wasn’t kissing him, nor a moment where she wouldn’t look at him with those big, blue ‘love me’ eyes and whisper silly things and jokes against his lips.

But all things end, and when his came, it brought stars along.

He all but collapsed, spent, holding himself on top of her, not bothering to slide out. Maybe, if he was quiet, the world wouldn’t find him.

Marinette’s giggle put his feet back on earth, and it felt like the perfect sound to come back to reality to.

Chat was about to ask, but Marinette pulled him towards her and pressed a kiss against his forehead. He gathered her in his arms.

“This table is really uncomfortable,” Marinette said, good humoredly. Chat chuckled.

“Sorry, you want to move?” He began moving away from her, but she held fast.

“What kind of a gentleman are you?” She asked, and Chat for a moment feared the worst until she broke into a grin. “Screw the daylights out of me and then have me walk to my bed? Rude much?”

Chat chuckled. “I suppose I need to be taught some manners.” He gathered her and pulled her up, carrying her in his arms to her bedroom. He placed her gently in her bed and watched her for a few seconds. She looked happy and tired.

“What are you waiting for? It’s cold outside.” She said. Chat blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

Marinette laughed. “Get into bed, dork,” but her eyes were soft, and she showed him exactly the reassurance he needed. “Or do you think I’m the kind of girl to fuck ‘em and toss ‘em?”

Chat smiled fully, and everything in his shoulders relaxed. “You want me to stay?” He asked, just one last time—just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming it.

“Of course I want you to stay,” she said, and her voice was gentle and smooth and warm. “I said I liked you, didn’t I?”

Chat climbed into bed and gathered her in his arms, her head resting against his chest.

“How can you like me?” He asked, himself, more than her.

She laughed tiredly before yawning. “I don’t know,” she confessed. “But at one point I thought about you so much I made your suit. How far gone do you think I am?” She asked, although her voice was less clear by the moment as sleep was overtaking her.

“Not more than me,” he whispered, but she had already fallen asleep.

The rain stopped falling by sunrise.


	2. Who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its not a multichapter, but i'm always a sucker for fluff. There will be no more chapters, cause i don't want this to turn into a Thing D: i have to many on going Things

Adrien was usually a sound sleeper, but ever since his moving out, he had been having trouble resting.

That night, he slept like a dead baby rock.

The smell of strawberries filled his nose, and there was a faint tickle across it, which woke him up to a strange, unfamiliar room. It took him a moment to recall last night’s events.

He looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms, and a single thought popped into his head with no preamble.

He was the single, _luckiest_ person in the history of Paris.

Marinette smelled like strawberries and the light was soft and pink, filtering through the windows. The air was a bit on the cold side, but the blanket and her body heat kept him well warmed.

He reached his eyes to rub them, and felt a something strange. It took him a moment to remember that he still the domino mask. He hesitated.

After last night, should he remove it? Would she be okay with it? I mean, he was perfectly happy showing her who he was. Hell, he’d _kill_ to have a confidant. But would it put her in danger?

The thought made him subconsciously clench her a bit towards him. Marinette shifted and Chat stopped breathing, worrying that he might’ve woken her up.

Deep breath through the nose, she rubbed her face against his chest before raising her head, opening her sleep-crusted eyes and looking at him. There was a vague, almost imperceptible surprise in them that lasted only a second, brought about by the unfamiliarity of waking up in bed next to someone new.

“Morning Chaton,” she smiled sleepily. Chat died and went to heaven. The smile was pulled out of his lips as if by a hook.

“Good morning Marinette.”

Lovely, _lovely_ words. _Good morning, Marinette_ were now the sweetest words in the language. He wanted to repeat them—taste them again—but the moment had passed. Marinette laughed a little.

“Its strange, hearing you call me Marinette.”

Chat furrowed his brow, confused. Marinette shook her head. “I’m just used to being _Princess_ now.”

Chat felt the smile form on his lips. “You can be _princess_ as long as you want.”

Marinette laughed softly before pulling away from Chat and to the edge of the bed. He immediately missed her warmth. She stood and yawned, stretching.

He ogled. Shamelessly.

Marinette turned and found him, jaw almost hitting the floor and eyes wide as plates, and she laughed.

“What? You saw me naked last night.”

Memories of bites and kisses surfaced in his brain, but he had to hush them as not to have a morning problem. “Yeah,” he said loudly and over the beating of his own heart. “But I was too busy to appreciate it. Besides, you look amazing by the morning light.”

Marinette smiled bashfully and took a robe from the closet he hadn’t noticed and tied it around herself. She came back and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at Chat in a way that wrapped itself around his heart deliciously and warmed him to the core. She ran a thumb across his cheek and thread her fingers through his hair.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Hm?”

“Last night you were kind of out of it. About your father and all that. Are you better now?”

Chat took her hand and kissed the place between her palm and her wrist. “I have literally never been better.”

Marinette laughed, but Chat felt he needed to express it _more_.

“I’m serious, Princess,” he whispered. Marinette cocked her head to the side, just a little, listening. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve felt this good.”

Marinette shook her head, not erasing her smile. “It’s amazing what sex will do to your head.”

“It’s not the sex,” Chat said, running her thumb over her knuckles and kissing the back of her hand. “It’s all of you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What’s _all of me_?”

“Waking up to your steady breath,” he began. “The small twitches of your body when you’re awakening, and the look in your eyes when you’re adjusting, like your mind is rebooting. That sleepy, adorable look in your face _right now_.” He hadn’t known he had thought all these things until he said them. “10/10 would fall on a dumpster in front of you again.”

Marinette giggled, and what a sweet sound it was. “Yeah, that wasn’t your greatest moment.”

He intertwined his fingers with hers. “Got me here, didn’t it?”

“I’m not so heartless that I’d leave a kitten out in the rain.”

But Chat was too busy swooning to really follow the thread of the conversation. He pulled himself up in the bed, the blanket pooling at his waist, and drew her in for a kiss. Marinette smiled into it and hummed appreciatively before laughing a little.

“Hm?” Chat asked, pulling back.

“I have an extra, new toothbrush,” she said with a smile. “Let’s maybe hold off on kissing until we get that out of the way.”

Chat Noir laughed and pulled his body to the edge of the bed. Marinette went to the closet and rummaged through some things before tossing him a white shirt and trousers. Chat looked at her, confused.

“Do you wanna be naked for breakfast?” She raised an eyebrow. “I mean, it can definitely be arranged, but I suppose you have an ounce of self consciousness.”

Chat laughed. “I don’t, but I can get dressed, if only for your sake.” He thought for a moment. “Wait, why didn’t you give me this last night?”

Marinette blushed. “No reason.”

He raised an eyebrow. Marinette huffed.

“I just wanted to see if the suit fit, okay? Besides, I forgot I had these. They’re for a design.”

Chat nodded and swung his legs over the side of the bed before standing---

\--and falling miserably to the ground with a yelp.

“Chat!” Marinette cried, rushing to him. Chat gathered himself into a sitting position and checked out his foot.

He had completely forgotten about it, but last night he had hurt himself. That was the entire reason he had come to Marinette’s apartment in the first place. Marinette leaned over and looked at his ankle before hissing in sympathetic pain.

“That looks like a sprain.” Chat looked at her blankly. Marinette raised an eyebrow. “Do you have _any_ idea how many sprains I’ve had? I know a sprain when I see one.”

Chat huffed. “But it didn’t hurt when.. uh—”

“Sprains sometimes don’t hurt when you’re warmed up, but when you cool down they’re pretty terrible.” Marinette stood up and offered her hand. “Here, let me help you up.”

With no small amount of effort, and the help of the bed and Marinette, Chat Noir was able to climb back into the bed.

He was still very much naked, and right now felt the embarrassment of it.

Its important to note that, as a model, it was strange for Adrien to be self conscious of his body. But somehow, only wearing this mask and being with Marinette of all people kind of… made him nervous. Like she’d find too many flaws in him if she stared long enough.

“If I transform it’ll hurt a little less, and I can get back to my apartment.”

“Uh yeah, about that,” Marinette blushed. “Would you mind not leaving until night time? I… kind of don’t want the neighborhood seeing you do the walk of shame from my doorstep.”

Chat blinked. “The walk of shame?”

Marinette sighed. “After you sleep with someone and you go home in the same outfit in the morning, you call it the walk of shame—not that _I’m_ ashamed of anything that went down, mind you. Shame is last thing on my list! I just, uh—”

Chat Noir laughed a little, in no small amount at being reassured. “I’m glad to know I’m not a shame,” he said, and then looked at her, insecure. “What about a regret?”

There was perfect stillness in the room. Marinette took a few seconds to process.

“Why would you even ask that?” She tilted her head to the side, curiously. He loved it when she did that. “Why would I have any regrets at being with you?”

Chat scratched the back of his neck, self consciously. “I… don’t know. Ruining our friendship? Having someone else? I have no clue.”

Marinette smiled and sat on the bed next to him. “Do you feel any less my friend?”

“What? No! Of course not.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about, right?”

Chat wanted to ask about Luka, but he thought better of it. He took Marinette’s hand in his own and kissed its back affectionately.

“So,” she said, trying to force lightness into her voice. “What does this make us?”

Chat thought about the answer for a moment. It was a very good question indeed. He would have to answer cautiously. “What do you want us to be?”

“Well, I said it last night,” she replied carefully and reached for his hand, wrapping her dainty fingers around it. “I really like you.”

The smile that bloomed on his lips was nothing short of breathtaking. “I really like you too,” he said, and pulled her closer to his body, just so that their sides were touching. It wasn’t enough---it would probably never be enough anymore, being in the same room as her and not having her wrapped in his arms—but he’d have to make do. “But…”

Marinette frowned, and he could read the concern in her eyes.

“Doesn’t it bother you? Not knowing who I am?”

He felt her release her breath. “Of course I know who you are, Chaton.”

Chat froze. Marinette ran her thumb across his cheek lovingly.

“You are the dorky, sweet, clumsy guy who has protected me and the rest of Paris for years. The guy who will pun his way into an early grave. The marvelous guy in my bed.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Your name isn’t important.”

Chat wanted to cry. Instead, he pulled Marinette into his lap again and hugged her, pressing his ear against her heart. She was taken aback, but allowed him to move her, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Do you remember, when we were 14 and you said you liked me?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Truth is, I did have a bit of a crush on you. I was just blinded by Ladybug.”

Marinette ran her fingers through his hair and pulled back to see his face. “It’s okay, I was also obsessed with someone else.”

Of course. Luka.

The thought didn’t make Chat the least bit happy, but it made absolutely zero sense to be jealous of past Luka for something past Adrien didn’t know how to appreciate. Instead, he tightened his hold on her.

“You should probably let me go,” she said, matter of factly. “I should get us some breakfast. Since you can’t walk and all.”

“I happen to really like where you are at this very moment,” he said, and he could feel the smile on his lips.

Marinette came closer and planted a kiss on the tip of his nose. “Food, Chaton.”

Chat sighed and reluctantly let go of her. Marinette walked away—although to Chat’s eyes, it was nothing short of a carefully choreographed dance. She left the door open, but from the angle of the bed, he couldn’t see the kitchen.

“I hope you don’t expect too much,” she called. “I literally only have cereal.”

Chat snickered. “You’re the daughter of Paris’s greatest bakers and you only keep cereal in your home?”

Marinette’s laugh played across the apartment. “You’re Paris’s greatest hero and you tripped into the trash.”

“Touché, Princess.”

“Maybe later,” she replied coquettishly, and Chat felt the beginnings of desire stir in him.

But it was more than desire, what he felt. At least more than carnal desire. He had a mighty _need_ to be wrapped in her arms. He wanted to hear her voice so close to his ear to feel her warm breath dissolving into sighs.

He shook his head and began dressing himself in the clothes she had gotten him. After a moment, a thought struck him.

Where on _Earth_ was Plagg?

* * *

“Humans are gross.”

“They’re not gross,” Tikki chided. “They just show affection differently.”

“They stick parts of themselves into each other. How is that _not_ gross?”

Tikki decided to ignore the statement, mostly because she didn’t have an answer for this particular oversimplification.

“I’m surprised you decided to help him, though.” Tikki smiled. “It was very nice of you.”

“I didn’t help him,” Plagg ‘hmphd’ and looked away, nestling in a towel in the closet. “I just didn’t feel like transforming and going out in the rain again.”

Tikki laughed a little. Plagg had a good heart, and he loved Adrien more than he’d ever admit. She floated down to the doorknob and peered through the hole.

“Pervert,” Plagg sang.

“Shh!”

Tikki watched Marinette return to the room.

* * *

“That looks good on you,” Marinette greeted, stepping in with two bowls of cereal. Chat sat in the bed, left leg straight, and Marinette handed him both plates before reaching for a pillow and putting it under his foot. “Keep it elevated. It’ll help with the swelling. Oh! Let me get you something for the pain.”

Before he could protest, she rushed out of the room, reentering a few seconds later with a glass of water and two pills in her hand. She sat on the edge of the bed and held them out for him, but Chat’s hands were full with the plates. “Right,” Marinette laughed, and put the water and pills on the nightstand and took a plate from Chat before standing.

Chat scowled. “Wait, stay.”

“I’m just going to my side of the bed,” she said. Chat had to still his heart at the implication of _her_ side of the bed meant that this was _his_ side of the bed.

“Stay,” he said again, and Marinette laughed a little. He scooted over, and Marinette climbed on the bed next to him, plate in hand. Their shoulders were touching, and this was now the warmest spot in Chat’s body, opaquing even the pulsating pain of his ankle.

They ate in silence for a few seconds, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was a companionable silence, somehow. A warm silence—one that somehow made evident that he wasn’t alone, even if just for her chewing.

“Princess?”

“Hm?” She looked at him sideways, spoon in mouth.

“Can I take off my mask?”

Marinette stilled. She swallowed. “Is it bothering you?”

“No, I—” he looked down at the dissolving flakes in the milk. “I’m just…” He sighed. “Never mind.”

Marinette set her place aside on the nightstand (how she had wolfed down the entire thing in less than five minutes was a sight to behold). “You know you can’t reveal your identity,” she said gently.

Chat nodded, but there were far too many words in his mouth. Words that made Marinette anxious. There was silence. Anxiety clawed at Marinette.

“Chat, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” he said, a little too quickly. “It’s nothing… I just…” he sighed.

“Tell me.”

He set the plate aside on the other nightstand, not even halfway done, and pulled back a little to look at Marinette more comfortably.

“Did you know you’re the person I’m most comfortable with?” He asked suddenly, stumping Marinette.

“What?” She spluttered. “Wait, what about—”

“It’s different,” he said quietly. “Sometimes… Sometimes I don’t _feel_ great, but I know I can’t really tell everything to her. I just know that she needs my support in battle, and I can’t really be on the slums.”

“But…” Marinette stuttered, but she had no idea what to say.

“And as a civilian, it’s the same,” he sighed. “I don’t think I can be _me_ , you know? Everyone is expecting something, and I have to deliver, and I have to do a thousand things a day, and then there’s my father—” he ran a hand through his hair, ruffling It, and sighed. He looked back at her. “It’s different with you.”

Her mouth ran dry.

“You’re not expecting me to be at my best all the time. You don’t… hold me up to these impossible standards. I don’t have to strive for this—this unattainable perfection. I’m not saying I’m _perfect_ , at all. But sometimes I feel like that’s what they want, and I—”

“—Maybe Ladybug expects so much of you because she knows you can deliver,” Marinette replied quietly. Chat nodded, looking away.

“No, I know that. I just feel that sometimes I can’t… let go.” He reached for her hand, and she didn’t pull it away. “It’s not like with you.”

“What’s it like with me?” She asked, numb.

His eyes lit up, and for a moment, Marinette could’ve sworn he was talking about something amazing. “It’s so _easy_. Natural. I can joke, but I can also be serious. I can tell you everything and I know you won’t judge me. I know this is going to sound silly but—you’re my best friend.”

Marinette’s lips parted, but no words came out.

“I know, its silly, we don’t see each other too often, but when we do, I’m just so… _comfortable_ around you. Its like I walk into this bubble of peace. I can be half-Chat, and half-A---my civilian self.” He kissed the back of her hand. “It’s liberating.”

Everything inside Marinette softened. Part of her ached—had she placed so much strain on him? She had always believed that they were each other’s best friends as Ladybug and Chat Noir, but could it be possible that she had done what he said she did?

“Do you feel you’re not good enough for Ladybug?” She blurted. Chat blinked, and took a moment to think about the question.

“Not… quite.” He pondered. “I feel enough… just… not naturally so. Like I need to _strive_ to be what she needs me to be.” He widened his eyes. “Which is okay! I mean, we’re partners, and we’re saving Paris and all that, so it would make sense for her to need me to be at my best, it’s just… I don’t know how to turn it off anymore, you know? Like I always need to be this heightened version of myself to cope.”

“Maybe if you showed her this…” Marinette said quietly, but she knew he was right. She would’ve never relied so much in Chat if she had known this was how he felt.

He squeezed her hand, dragging her out of her thoughts, and pressed his free hand to her cheek.

“Last night…” was all he said. He had no more words.

“Last night?” Marinette _needed_ words.

“Last night was _everything_ to me. I’ve never felt more like myself—I didn’t feel lonely, or distant, or like I was hiding.” He kissed her hand, and she noticed he was shaking. “It showed me things I didn’t know.”

“Like?” What? What did she want to hear?

His gaze was soft. “Like there was a cliff that I’ve been circling.

She frowned. “A cliff?”

He laughed a little. “Yeah. And I threw myself entirely into it.”

“What does that mean?”

The words were clear in his face, but she wanted to hear them.

“That I love you.”

The world stilled for her. The ever moving gears of her mind halted, and her heart stopped, as did her lungs. She was one with time, and it had completely stalled.

His face was smooth, but she could read the lines of anxiety on it. Not even knowing what she was doing, Marinette allowed her body to react. She leaned forward and kissed him softly, carefully reading the messages that her body had been sending her all this time.

The pounding of her heart and the shaking of her hands, and the warmth in her belly and the heat on her chest and the numbness of her legs and the way her eyes closed. Above all, she realized she felt something she hadn’t in a long time— _safe_.

With Adrien, and then with Luka, there was always hesitation, and the looming fear that there was something she wasn’t doing right, or maybe something that would soon screw it up. She always felt as if she had to be tip-top shape for them—just as Chat had described.

And then, she knew. She’d known for a while, she guessed.

She pressed her forehead against his. “I love you, too.”

She felt the trembling breath that resolved into Chat’s smile and the sparkles in his eyes. It drew a smile out of her, as well.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

He pressed a kiss at their intertwined hands.

“What do we do now?” He asked, curiously. You don’t know my name.”

“Whoever you are under that mask, you’re my Chaton,” she smiled, and knew that it was true. “That’s never going to change.”

“Should I keep it on, then?” he asked, hesitant.

She kissed his palm. “We all have our secrets. You can keep this one.” She smiled, and Chat felt a surge of affection towards her.

Because he didn’t want to stain the Chat persona in her mind with _Adrien_. She knew him. They were friends.

But she wasn’t _in love_ with Adrien—she was in love with Chat. She was in love with his real self, and he wanted to cement that before potentially disappointing her.

But something in her eyes told him he could never disappoint her, and he knew the moment would come in which he’d no longer be scared.

“So,” he said lightly. “Endgame MariChat?”

She laughed. “If that’s a ship name, you’re a dork.”

“You love a dork.”

Marinette smiled and kissed him softly. “I love a dork.”

He didn’t go back to his apartment that night, either.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Please feel free to join our ML Fanwork server!!
> 
> https://discord.gg/mlfanworks


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